The Lotus Eaters
by Yugoslavia
Summary: Commander Mars is given one mission to oversee and control on her own: steal electrical power from the Valley Windworks. When her tight timetable is threatened and the mission runs late, she must resort to more desperate, otherworldly measures.
1. Chapter 1

"…"

An icy gasp left Commander Mars. Opening her eyes, she was staring directly at a steel-plated ceiling, the rivets coming through in haunting shadows. The whole room seemed to sway in an unearthly light, dim and ethereal.

Grasping at her arms, Mars realized just how cold the room was. Still, she worked herself against her own exhaustion and aching, sitting up in bed. She felt the papery mattress beneath her, thin and uncomfortable. The lone black felt blanket that had been draped over her slid off of her with little resistance, slumping against the reinforced wall her bed was built against. Her compressed shorts bunched up against her legs as she slid forward, dangling her naked legs over the edge of the bed. As she slowly lowered her feet she felt the icy touch of the steel floor on her toes, making her gasp and wince.

Overhead, as her head cleared the low-hanging bunk, her hand reached up blindly, feeling the surface for the control panel built into it. Once she found the opening to the panel, she reached into the dark space, finding a control switch. As soon as she turned it, the lights beneath her bed flickered, turning on. The quiet whine of electrical power being fed filled her senses.

As she put more of her weight on her feet and in turn pressed her feet to the frigid floor, Mars let out a loud groan, suddenly stumbling forward. In the short span from the beds to the opposite wall, Mars made contact with her desk almost immediately, her thighs colliding with it. She let out another loud groan before she fell hard against the small desk chair. She quickly righted herself, sitting down in the chair properly. She rested the stinging heels of her feet on the edges of the swiveling legs, catching her breath.

Before she considered doing anything, she looked up to the bunk just above her bed. It was empty. Not even a mattress had been put there. After considering what it meant, she turned her head to along the wall where the desk was, looking at the scratch-a-day calendar mounted on the wall. Though the day's date was given, 'Day 6' was written below the printed number.

Pushing herself off from the desk, the skittering wheels beneath her chair propelled Mars at a languid pace across the smooth floor. As she glided towards the far end of the bunk bed, Mars reached out, her hand grasping on the end of the bed and using it to slow herself, correcting her angle of trajectory so that she slid between the space of the bed and the closet. Mars stopped herself, opening the narrow closet door.

The wool socks slid satisfyingly up Mars' ankles. Testing her newfound wear, she pressed her feet to the floor, finding that they were satisfying in protecting her. She stood completely up in front of the chair, walking around the chair and grabbing the back of it, dragging it along behind her until she reached the desk.

The desk was sparse. A single, folded computer terminal sat in the center, while a stack of white, printed sheets rested beside it. A couple of loose pens sat atop it. To the right, mounted to the wall, a desk lamp snaked down from the wall on a posable arm. Just beneath it sat a glassy jar with dark red, murky contents.

Mars removed the sculpted lid from the glass jar. She put the inside of it to her nose and breathed it in; cinnamon apple. The wick of the candle was peeling, leaving black flakes along the inside of the waxy surface, where the incredibly thin layer of candle wax lined the walls beside it. Rings of burned wax circled out from the central point of the wick, a depressing sign of disuse on it. As Mars set the candle down, hearing the loud clack against the plastic surface of the desk, Mars scanned the naked surface in the darkness. There wasn't a lighter.

It was a short search. Mars lifted the black sleeve of her wrist-mounted COMM, the communication device she wore so handily on the job. The folded straps that sat beneath the wide LED display unfurled, and the lighter clattered against the desk as it did. Eyeing the lighter, Mars let it be for the time being, bringing around the COMM to her tired eyes and fumbling for the power key on the side of it. Once the dim black display started its boot-up cycle, Mars set it atop the folded screen of her computer terminal.

Mars took the beaten lighter into her hand. The gunmetal surface of it gleamed in the faint light, the familiar scuffs and marks of wear leaving deep grooves on the surface. As she turned it over, feeling the lid of the lighter clack satisfying against her fingers, she gazed upon the engraved words just beneath the lid, etched in a far older font. 'Second Outer League Conflict – 1980-1983' read the label. As she flipped the far end of the lighter so that the bottom shone in the dim light, much of what had been engraved there was now missing, ground away by years of misuse. Though the last name had been worn away until it was now largely unrecognizable, the first name 'Giovanni' was evident on the lighter. The rank of private was visible at the front as well. Under her breath, inaudibly, Mars whispered the last name to herself.

The lid kicked back, the steel wheel clicking in and giving life to a tall, gently wavering flame on the end of it. Mars held the end of the lighter pinched between her two fingers, lowering it into the glass jar on the table and lighting the end of the candle. The dim light emanated from it and spread over the desk, bathing the sparse setup in warm light. Closing the lighter, Mars set it back in its corner.

An electronic, recorded chime played from the tiny pinhole speakers on the COMM. Mars lifted the device up to her blurred, sleepy vision, focusing in on the main screen of the sparse display. On the black and yellow lined text and digitally drawn windows that appeared, a small portioned-off space on the screen displayed the time: '6:02 AM'.

Mars stared off at the wall, contemplating this, slowly setting the COMM down.

* * *

The lid to Mars' computer terminal was open, bathing her in the dim light of a mass array of golden-hued lines of text. On the keyboard in the keyboard tray beneath the desk, Mars' fingers hammered away, her eyes tracing the fast-appearing words that scrawled across the display. She paused in her typing to reread what she had written so far. Putting a hand onto the desk, she found the touchpad just beneath the monitor, grabbing the scrolling handle and moving up the many digital pages she had written. All-in-all she counted seven so far. Biting her lip, she looked at the time in the bottom corner of the display, seeing that her time was quickly coming to the end.

At the far end of the room, the touchscreen on the door-mounted console lit up, before playing a small chime. The gentle humming of the outside came through the speaker, moments before the sound of a voice chimed through.

"Commander, it's Geegee. Just making sure you're up."

Taking a short breath, Mars keyed in the 'save' command, watching the loading bar appear and disappear in a flash, just as she keyed in the 'close' command. Before she replied, she took a brief look down at herself; the white t-shirt and compression shorts were not necessarily professional. She hadn't even seen her hair, but running her hand through it she knew it was less than tidy.

Getting to her feet, Mars reached to the same panel beneath the elevated bunk bed she had used to power on the lights beneath her bed, finding the intercom toggle. Just as she cleared her throat, bringing herself close to the steel mesh port in the panel, she toggled the intercom button.

"I'm up, thank you," said Mars, making her exhaustion as little apparent as she could.

"TB has a logistics report for you down in the cargo bay. I'll have breakfast down there for you."

Mars nodded to herself softly, heading away from the intercom panel and down towards the desk. On her monitor, she cued up her email, scanning through anything new that might've appeared.

"Commander, may I come in?"

Mars paused from where she was, stooped over her desk, raising her head in response to the intercom's call. It was still Geegee, and though she looked in confusion to the panel beneath the top bunk and then over to the control panel in the door, Mars' expression faded. She seemingly expected it. She straightened herself, meandering back towards the panel beneath the bed and pressing the intercom button again.

"Yes, Geegee."

Beneath the steel plate of the door, the electronic beeps of a passcode being put in came through the door in muffled sequences. After a moment, the metal door slid to the right, hissing as it disappeared beneath the wall and Mars' narrow closet. The hallway was brightly lit, the hum of large electrical systems and engineered systems apparent in a dull rumble. The dark figure of Geegee seemed to hesitate, her shorter stature peering into the dark of Mars' quarters. She rested a hand against the opening of the door as she took a step in, her eyes eventually where Mars hid in the corner. It made her pause for a moment, but she relaxed moments later. Taking another step in, she reached to the console of the door beside her, keying up a command and closing the door in two taps.

"Is everything okay?" Geegee asked, tentative. Beside her, hidden from Mars' sight, she carried a clipboard. She clutched the clipboard with both hands, watching Mars with mild hesitation. Her nose wrinkled, smelling something unsavory hidden beneath the wafting smell of burning wax and cinnamon apple.

Mars nodded softly. After a moment, she stood up, crossing the room in front of Geegee and opening up her narrow closet. She passed over one set of her uniform, instead opting for the one hanging behind it.

"You weren't at the showers today," said Geegee.

"I showered last night," said Mars.

Beneath the uniform she had worn, signs of wear on the white breastplate on the front, there were two more uniforms. Mars pulled out the first one on top, a plastic sheet fitted for it resting over it, as wide as the shoulders and as long as her legs went. Beneath the plastic covering, a fresh, clean uniform hung inside.

Geegee, keeping her eyes focused off Mars, wandered languidly towards the bed, taking a moment to keep hand maintain her silence as she walked. She held the clipboard, looking at it in the dim lighting, reading the preliminary reports.

"Mars, I know that you are my superior in this situation…" Geegee began, carefully. When she looked to Mars, she averted her eyes.

Mars had removed the white t-shirt, her naked back facing Geegee as she faced the wall. Wadding up the white shirt and tossing it aside, she reached for a black bra atop a stack of boxes, throwing it over her arms and tossing the other one aside.

As Mars began to remove her shorts, Geegee turned away, focusing on her report, even though she was saying something completely different.

"… But you know I consider you the most important friend I have ever had," Geegee continued. "If something is wrong, just know you can bounce something off of me."

Mars faced the wall. With the faintly-striped leggings of her uniform sitting comfortably on her legs, Mars took the long black stockings and, one foot at a time, removed the sock and pulled the long black sock up over her leg and pulled it tightly, wiggling her toes through the slack of the sock until it hugged the curvature of her foot perfectly. She then grasped for where her uniform's undershirt hung off the stacked boxes, pulling out the sleeves and sliding it over her head.

She said nothing, instead crossing the short space of her quarters and walked past Geegee, opening up the door to it. Stepping out into the lengthy, futuristic hallway, she signaled for Geegee to follow. Just several feet down the way from the exit to Mars' quarters, past several other doors to other sets of sleeping quarters, Mars entered the dark entrance of a bathroom, heading inside and walking past several of the stalls.

Geegee followed, hanging in the entrance. As Mars wordlessly dipped down over the counter of a sink, her head approaching the faucet as it kicked on and dispensed a trickle of recycled water, she leaned against the doorway, watching Mars through the mirror. Mars collected the water in her hand and smoothed down the curling, bedheaded mess of her hair, paying little attention to Geegee, smoothing out her hair into the bombshell shape it usually retained, not bothering to style the three points of hair that stuck up in the front, even if the shapes naturally materialized and formed on their own.

After a long pause of sculpting her hair into a more natural shape, Mars sighed quietly, looking at her own reflection.

"This mission is just going a little long," said Mars. "That's all."


	2. Chapter 2

Peering over the topmost balcony of the engine room, Mars looked down the three floors, looking down towards the bottom. The main reactor to the Galactic shuttle hummed with an intensity that filled the whole craft. Several long and thick tubes jutted from the massive bulkheads, the mass cables that regulated and transferred power snaked down over the last balcony where the section of the engine room hung down and split towards the large collection of reactors that sat in the cargo hold.

Mars took a long ladder that descended along the outside of the two exposed balcony decks of the engine room and the final floor of the cargo hold, bringing herself down towards the last one that hung over the cargo hold. She shimmied herself around the ladder, walking along the steel-grate platform that lined the bulkheads and various fuel containers that interfaced with the external turbines. As she did, she looked out over the balcony, seeing the operator's platform where TB60 stood, overseeing the power transfer both from his perch on the raised platform and from a mounted display. She approached without a word, watching as he switched between several different screens on his display.

At long last, TB60 saw Mars approaching from around one of the large main columns that fed fuel to the external engines. Reaching over to the analog control panel, he flipped the plastic case over a switch and hit the concealed 'DOWN' button. The steel plate of the platform he stood on jolted once, making the thin platform wobble before the electric engine beside it slowly lowered him, whining the whole way down as the piston beneath depressurized. As his platform lowered to be level with the balcony, the extended track that the platform was mounted on retracted, pulling him close to the balcony as well. Once the platform was level and flat with the balcony, having reached a complete stop, TB60 reached beneath the monitor of his overseeing setup, pressing on either side of the mounted computer rack where two arms released the computer held inside, pushing out just the end for TB60. He grasped the thin, wide computer, firing up the touch display that encompassed the front of it and switching it into tablet mode.

As TB60 slid his hand through the hand grip beneath, Mars stood at the entrance to the controller platform. She watched carefully as, as TB60 finished situating himself, his true expression came to full view; optimistic, but somber.

"Your report, TB60?" asked Mars.

A black screen came up on TB60's tablet. He had stepped around off the platform to come alongside Mars, showing what the tablet was trying to pull up, where moments later the white lines of a wireframe diagram appeared. The tablet had drawn the morning's cargo hold layout, a detailed diagram of everything held inside the shuttle. In bay 'B', just beside the current area they stood in, rows and rows of storage reactors appeared, about forty. About half had red caution marks on them with a linked annotation.

For effect, looking to Mars for just a moment to see that she was paying full attention, TB60 started to open up the linked annotations, where they appeared on a side view of the diagram, a digital slide-out drawer with several individual notes that appeared like sticky notes. Though the individual annotations were all different, written by different members of the inspecting team in the cargo hold, all Galactic scientists, all written in different styles, the exact same lengthy string of an error code kept appearing.

"Now, _this_ ," said TB60, "this here is what we got when _all_ of us were performing routine inspections overnight. We found all of the reactors here are suffering from these issues. It's not a hardware defect with the reactors themselves—we built all of them in-house, engineered and designed by the high Galactic scientists—it's an issue with the power supply. Now—"

"What do you mean 'an issue with the power supply'?" Mars interjected.

TB60 ran his finger beneath the identical error code string on another random annotation he had opened. "This error code means that the power we've collected is extremely unstable. It's seemingly corrupted. Think like if water had been poisoned with lead, or if it were radioactive. All of the power in these containers is completely unusable. If we swapped out the reactor we have currently in this shuttle with one of these, the entire turbine complex would overload and turn this whole town into a gigantic fireball."

Mars swallowed inaudibly, holding her resolve. "It's completely unusable?" she asked.

"Not unless we discharge all of it, remove the power to some other kind of storage until we can filter it."

"We have to filter the power?" Mars had tried to hide the skepticism in her voice, but she had finally failed. Her voice wavered a bit, even if her focused gaze never did.

* * *

"Your plan is to take the twenty 'bad egg' reactors and run them through a gigantic surge protector? And that surge protector _does not even exist_?"

"It's extremely hypothetical."

"We've been on this mission for four days. Today is the last day we were outfitted for as far as supplies and planning. I have to report to Master Cyrus tonight why our mission is going the way it is. We don't have time for 'hypothetical'."

Sitting atop a storage unit, Mars ran a hand through her hair, hunched over with her legs dangling over. She threw her hands into her lap in defeat, looking up with tired eyes and looking over her shoulder, looking at Geegee.

Mere feet from Mars, Geegee squatted with a plastic tray, poking a plastic bag. The plastic bag sat in water, steam coming up all around it, droplets of condensation beneath the bag. The bag was full of a yellowy-orange solid, flecks of parsley showing up on the surface, as well as chunks of vegetables that showed against the bag. As Geegee took a knife from her utility belt, clicking the release and exposing the silvery blade, she made a long cut along the edge of the bag. The prepared soup dumped out of the bag and into the thin layer of water. Geegee shook the bag vigorously, shaking out the thick, viscous liquid. The far end of the bag shuddered and stopped as she shook, and Geegee's eyes went wide. A large chunk of frozen soup slid out, falling flat and sliding in the thawed contents of the tray.

As Geegee's frightened expression panned up to Mars, Mars waved it off, reaching and accepting the tray from Geegee when she offered it. She took the plastic-wrapped spork and napkin from her as well, beating down the plastic-wrapped ware against the surface of the container until it popped, the spork and napkin coming free. Without a thought, Mars dove into eating the soup straight away, not thinking about flavor or texture.

Behind her, TB60 was squatting over a tall reactor, atop the small platform mounted over the top of the main structure. A long coiled cable had been attached to a port atop his tablet and was processing information as fast as it could. Though he was mindful of the loading window on the tablet, he watched carefully as basic data and rudimentary diagrams of the energy contents flashed beside him. Though his expression was stony, a bit of that rigid expression faltered.

"I've resolved to work with my top people to make a basic model—a simulation of the energy purification process," said TB60. He watched as, on the tablet screen, the full data table appeared on the status of the reactor. It was as grim as he had expected moments earlier.

"That's a start," Mars said, midway through chewing a chunk of frozen soup.

TB60 detached the cable from his tablet. Taking the hand strap on the back of the device, TB60 pressed the tablet screen-first against a wide, flat holster on his hip, where the corners of the tablet snapped in and locked into place. He then swung his legs over the end of the platform, levying himself down by holding the guardrails until he found the first rung of the latter beneath him, crawling down the ladder that ran down the side of the reactor.

Mars finished her soup silently. After scarfing down the majority of it by spork, she lifted the tray to her lips, tipping it back and drinking it all. Once finished, she wiped away the soup from her lips with the napkin, then wadding up and tossing it into the tray. She dropped the spork atop it, setting it beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it disappear. Geegee had hastily put it away, putting it with the rest of the trash that she had generated making the meal. Mars watched Geegee's diligence in silence, and then turned back towards the bottom of the storage crate where TB60 had appeared, waiting.

"TB, get started on that. And… Give us a moment…" Mars said, her voice appearing more confident than it was in reality as it echoed off the walls of the cargo hold.

* * *

As both Mars and Geegee passed between two low-hanging coolant tanks, following a narrow path with caution markings one either side, the lift platform sensors kicked in, the lights on the control console lighting up. Mars stepped on first, and as she turned the starter key, flipping open the plastic case on the control buttons, she looked to Geegee, who had paused.

Geegee was on the steel-studded platform, but she was kneeling in front of the silvery coffee canister she had set down on it. A small holster atop the coffee canister held a stack of papery cups, and Geegee took one out, sliding it beneath the nozzle. She pumped the plastic button atop, filling it with steaming black coffee. She took the full cup, passing it up to Mars.

"Sorry, I forgot to earlier," said Geegee, masking a sigh beneath her breath.

Though Mars took the coffee, she gave Geegee a weary look, considering what she said as she took a sip. The simmering black coffee was refreshing, the bitter sensation lingering in the corners of her mouth, bringing a bit of light to her eyes despite her worried expression. She then pressed in on the lift button, toggling the green button and watching as it blinked.

The platform beneath them jostled once, and then lifted the two of them at a crawling pace, the motors whining all around them. The pair stood in silence, watching as they passed through the many different sets of balconies and the thin catwalks that snaked between large fuel tanks, some grunts having woken and arrived for the morning shift.

Towards the top of the tall open engineering space, the final balcony approached. Mars readied herself, watching and waiting until the lip of the lift was level with the open space of the balcony. Mars then pressed in against the green button, ending the blinking and releasing the sprung lock inside. The magnetic lock on the gate ahead of them released and swung open, allowing them to step off. Mars didn't, instead turning her attention to Geegee.

"Are you okay?" asked Mars.

"Am I okay? I mean… Are you okay?" Geegee was avoiding eye contact, only referencing her by looking to the corners of her eyes, her lips remaining pursed as she asked the tentative question.

Sighing, Mars walked ahead, stepping onto the balcony and walking ahead. At the door's console, the touchscreen coming to life and asking for authentication, Mars keyed in her own personal clearance code, authenticating with a swipe of her thumb over the fingerprint reader. Satisfied, a chime played out and the door hissed, sliding deep beneath the wall.

"I told you, I'm just a bit worked up over just how far we've slipped behind on things," said Mars. "I just want to make sure that… As a leader, I'm performing at my best and so is everyone. If this mission goes any more sideways, it's all on me, and there's already a lot I have to answer to."

Geegee walked the corridor, keeping pace with Mars. Though mindful of the silvery coffee canister that swung beside her as she walked, she slowly turned her eyes down, thoughts creeping in as she considered everything Mars had to say. It made her a tad distracted when she had to pause and let other grunts walk past her, but she continued walking just as she had, lost in thought.

As the hallway bent, turning into a small sublet of a hallway before turning into the main corridor of the shuttle, Mars took the detour towards the steel door of her quarters, keying in another clearance code into the touchscreen console in the wall beside it.

"I just… You don't seem like yourself…"

As the door beside Mars opened into the darkness of her sleeping quarters, Mars turned on Geegee, giving her a deathly serious look. A pallor had fallen on her features, making her look paler than usual, almost in human. Her eyes had a hypnotic quality, a glimmer deep beneath the red tint of her irises. It made Geegee freeze up, paying attention but feeling a deep clenching fear inside.

Moments later, Mars' features softened up. She straightened herself and stood more upright, no longer the hunched over, defensive monster she was seemingly imitating.

"Sometimes when you lead, you have to do some unsavory things."

When Mars finished speaking, Geegee still found herself frozen, gazing off into the dark depths of Mars' quarters. She didn't follow.


	3. Chapter 3

Black flecks of dirt flew away from Mars' boot as her nail picked at them. Squatted over on the bed, she reached beside her and grabbed an old white rag, running it over the toe of her boot and rubbing until she heard squeaking. She looked down, seeing the polished white surface gleaming in the dim light of her quarters.

Getting up, she tossed the rag into a small bin, crossing towards the desk and squatting down. A drawer at the bottom of the desk's cabinet had a lock on it. Mars took the key tucked in the leggings of her uniform, sliding it in and opening it. The drawer slid open; several Pokeballs, tools and useful aids for her Pokemon, as well as several unmarked packages lined the inside. Lifting the topmost flap to one of the open packages, Mars could see the gleam of a gun tucked away inside, leaving it be as she reached down for the Pokeballs. A white snaking belt rested beneath the somewhat scattered Pokeballs, and Mars pulled it up, holding it by the latching ends. She put it on the desk, taking a seat in the desk chair.

Cradled between her hands, Mars stared down at the new Pokeball. Unlike the Pokeballs in her belt, this Pokeball had a gray shell with two, equally spaced vertical yellow bars painted on; an Ultra Ball. It felt identical to any Pokeball she had ever held, balanced and aerodynamic, feeling good when her fingers curled around it. Still, something didn't quite feel right about it.

"Don't let me down…" Mars muttered to the Pokeball, holding it up to the light.

The white belt slid effortlessly through the loops around Mars' torso. The belt doubled over and slid back through clasp on the front of the belt, locking down and sealing tightly. The holster clipped back onto the belt, sliding towards backside of Mars' hips. Another set of supplies for Mars' belt, resting on the desk moments before, snapped onto the belt with ease.

Lastly, Mars took the gray Ultra Ball from the desk, snapping it snugly into her holster.

* * *

The loading ramp of the shuttle stretched far down, leading out onto the grassy, muddied field that the shuttle was parked on. A deep shadow covered the ground, where only a very bright sliver of light could be seen just beyond the opening of ramp, the only visible end to the silhouette of the gigantic craft. The walls on either side of the ramp opening were lined with crates of supplies, pressed against the railings, the ramp space seeming bare with only two figures standing on it.

"Maybe… If you're not busy later… We could have a Pokemon battle? It might help to take your mind off the mission a bit…" Geegee swallowed uncomfortably as she put out her suggestion. Her whole body seemed to be on edge, poised uncomfortably at the beginning of the ramp.

Mars turned to Geegee, smiling. She squinted, the light from the world just beyond the ramp making the inside of the shuttle seem incredibly dark. A bit of wind knocked her hair up as she spent the moment looking up at her. Though Mars was several feet down from the ramp, a duffel bag slung over her shoulders, full of supplies, a deep black hoodie covering the breastplate of her uniform and her skirt removed, she seemed hesitant in her effort to leave for just a moment.

"I appreciate that," said Mars. "I'll see you at the rendezvous tonight, alright?"

Geegee nodded silently, standing frigidly at the top of the ramp as she watched Mars continue walking down the ramp, disappearing beyond the opening of the lowered ramp's arms.

* * *

As Mars crested a hill, climbing atop the rising land and steadying herself on the slick morning grass, the tall spires of windmills came into view. A few steps more, Mars found herself looking at the Valley Windworks building just on the other side of the hill she had just crested, down in the valley below, hugging the river that snaked through the valley. Over on the hills that walled the town off from the highlands of the Eterna Forest, distant windmills turned in the morning breeze, shrouded by morning mist.

Though Mars was mindful of the Valley Windworks nearby, giving careful attention the grunt who guarded the barricade door to the building, Mars looked off into the actual town, looking at the suburban area. A particular house caught her eye, one with a pastel pink roof.

A hat had been wadded up and stuffed into the front pockets of Mars' hoodie. Mars took the hat out, unfurling it and pulling the curved head of the black ski cap. She ran her fingers through her bangs and smoothed them down, the curling, frayed mess folding down as she slid her hat over it. The brim of the ski cap snapped snugly, hugging her head and giving warmth. Curled, wavy hair poked out from Mars' brow and beside her ears, no longer unusual to the common eye.

Slowly, Mars set about descending into the valley, heading towards Floaroma Town.


	4. Chapter 4

The pink-roofed house was small, off the main road that passed through Floaroma Town. Though the house had cream-colored wood siding, the corners were accented with brick and stone, made to look more charming and cozy like a cottage would. The door was the same muted pink that the roof was. A cobblestone path snaked up from the dirt one, moving through neatly kept lawn that separated itself from the wild grasses that covered the valley and the town. Hundreds of brightly colorful flowers lined the front where planting space had been dug out to surround the front of the house.

Mars, her hands stuffed in her pockets, walked up the path and to the front door. Her only hesitation was to look to the side of the house where a small shed had been built to match the house. The lone bike that usually resided inside was gone. Nevertheless, she continued to approach the front of the house, coming to the door where the sign hung on the front, 'The Johnson Residence'.

From a side pocket on the duffel, Mars reached in and removed a set of keys. She pulled out the appropriate key, slipping it into the locks and turning the key. A satisfying click came, and the sprung handle on the door popped up. Carefully, Mars opened the door.

The lights in the living room were turned out, with only the feeble overcast daylight coming through the windows. A dining table had been set to the left of her, close to the window, a stack of mail in one corner and a child's drawing in the other. Overhead, a simple dining light hung. Opposite it, against the dividing wall for the kitchen and the main hall, a simple, small end table had been set with photographs of a happy family, a husband, wife and child. A vase of flowers, recently replaced with fresh pink tulips, stood on the end table. Several more photographs had been hung on the wall, small and far between.

After shutting the door, Mars walked the house carefully. After giving a passing glance to the empty study in the far right, Mars headed to the open doorway of the kitchen, poking in and seeing the plain white, tiled walls. Nothing but rows of closed wooded cabinets and a stack of dirty dishes filled it, giving Mars some semblance of comfort that there was no one home.

* * *

Deep beneath the wall, the water pressure shot up and thumped, echoing in the porcelain chamber of the shower. The shower knob squealed as Mars turned it with nimble fingers, turning the pointed head of it until it reached the very end of the etched track in the silvery plate. Water hissed from the showerhead above, sprinkling water out for a moment before it came in a hot, clear stream.

As the rush of water echoed and rang off the walls, roaring in the small space, Mars shut the glass door she had just opened, shaking off the droplets of water that had sprinkled on her arm. She stepped away from the closed chamber, leaving it for a moment, clutching the white towel that she had wrapped around her naked body as she approached the toilet, sitting on the closed lid. Her pasty legs crossed, toes curling involuntarily as she threw her hands into her lap, hunched over, sitting forward, contemplating.

* * *

Hot steam pooled in the shower, swirling about Mars' figure in a rush among the running shower water. Running a hand over her shoulder, rubbing the wet shoulder where water pooled and glazed her skin, Mars stared ahead in thought, feeling the hot streams of water running over every inch of her skin. She felt the water pool over her feet as it collected on the shower floor.

A slop of hair was slung over the side of Mars' head, cleaned and shampooed, pulled out of her eyes as it had straightened in the hot environment. The smell of lavender and sandalwood radiated from her figure, the result of several minutes of scrubbing. Still, completely scrubbed clean, Mars hesitated, staring ahead and her thoughts lingering.

Just outside the bathroom, Mars heard a door close; the front door. Her eyes snapped open and she returned to reality. Her gaze paced around the white walls of the bathroom, looking just beyond the frosted glass and aluminum of the enclosed shower. She looked over the many different bottles that lined a small platform beside her, a used loofah and several wet rags that she herself had brought. Finally, her gaze landed on the metal plate of the shower knob. She hesitated, though she didn't show any signs of doubt, reaching for the knob and cranking it clockwise. The water shut off with a shrill squeal, water drizzling from the showerhead just above her. As she looked up to it, almost reverently, Mars felt her hair fall out of the slick she had pulled it back into, falling over her eyes.

* * *

"Hon, is that you? Back from work already?"

The voice of a middle-aged woman echoed out from the living room, sounding on the hallway that led up to the bathroom, just where Mars was. Though her footsteps were muffled by the carpet, she could hear a light shuffling, the sound of plastic bags rustling and crinkling when they were full of groceries. Bottles clinked and packages thumped on the dining table, before the shuffling continued and the screen door in front of the front door squealed.

Hearing silence from the main room, Mars undid the lock to the bathroom. The door swung slowly, just cracked open. She peered through, and through the slice of visibility that she had, she could see that the woman had set the groceries on the dining table, just as she had heard. She flinched when she heard the screen door squeal again and open wide, and the woman stepped back into the living room, entering Mars' view. All she could see was a slice of form-fitting black pants and a pink-patterned blouse on her. Narrowing her eyes, Mars could see the glint of a wedding ring on her finger; it was Mrs. Johnson.

* * *

Mars looked down behind her. In the steamy haze of the bathroom, she still felt like she wasn't fully dry, even if she was wearing clothes. She had put on the black undershirt of her uniform as well as the black leggings. The white breastplate of armor was just barely sticking out of the open black duffel, as well as her boots. Mars' hair was still drenched, her bangs hanging down in front of her eyes and putting a maroon haze in front of her vision. Though she could see where the black cord of the hair dryer snaked just over the counter, she didn't put much focus to it.

As she had lowered herself moments earlier, Mars paid close attention to the shadow she was casting on the wall behind her, and scanned her surroundings. Though a confidence in her plan shone through her, she still found herself hesitating when she went to reply.

"I'm in here, sweetie," Mars called out as plainly as she could.

From the sliver of the door that she had open, squatting down, Mars watched as Mrs. Johnson hesitated. She was hunched over a paper bag on the dining table, having been rooting through it moments earlier, but now she was turning to peer down the hallway. Mars yanked herself back, pulling herself into the bathroom and inadvertently slamming her body against the cabinets beneath the sink, making the rattle and clap, echoing off the walls in the bathroom.

"Did you get sick at work? You don't sound too good."

Mars was silently evaluating her options, staring at the wall wide-eyed. An icy chill crawled down her back. She reached up to her neck, rubbing it softly, feeling the goosebumps that had appeared.

The door to the bathroom had swung open, but all by Mars' own doing. Still, Mars took it as an opportunity, watching the dim lighting of the hallway, watching for shadows that could be cast on the wall. She heard no footsteps.

With a sense of daring, Mars slowly crept towards the outside of the doorway, peering her head around. It was the same scene she had seen moments earlier, Mrs. Johnson hunched over the table and rooting through a paper bag. She hadn't seemed to move, but Mars still got the icy chill she had moments ago, only ten times worse. She saw, just beneath the table, resting on one of the pushed-in chairs, Mars' white utility belt had been slung over the cushion. On the outside of the white belt, Mars saw the gray and yellow shell of the Ultra Ball she had been packing. As she stared at it, transfixed, her gaze was broken when Mrs. Johnson stepped in front of it, still not having looked towards the hallway where the bathroom door was open.

Mars almost immediately leapt back into the bathroom, her back to the sink counter once again. She felt her breath had picked up dramatically as she stared at the same wall she had moments before, the soaked hairs on her scalp seemingly standing on end.

Then, after collecting herself, Mars looked to the black duffel, contemplating it for several moments. Lifting the white breastplate that stuck out of it, Mars saw the glint of something golden and brassy tucked away inside; her harp.

* * *

The shimmering, reverberating notes of the harp echoed through the hall. Mars' fingers danced upon the near-invisible strings, swimming over them before lightly tapping and plucking at them. Hearing the notes turn from inaudible to bright, beautiful notes, Mars could hear the melody string together as she created it, her head bobbing along as she hummed the notes to herself and gained a rhythm, translating it to the harp with ease.

Though she had switched the fan in the bathroom off moments earlier, Mars now flicked the switch for the light, darkening the bathroom, pausing in playing the harp. She stepped out from the open bathroom door and into the hallway, lightly pressing her bare feet to the carpet as not to make a sound. Though she watched the careful steps she made, she turned her gaze down the hallway, her head craning as she moved, watching just beyond the hallway where she could see and where Mrs. Johnson was. She cradled the harp in her one arm, instead watching carefully.

Mrs. Johnson was poised, paused, reading a stack of mail in front of her with her head turned to the kitchen. Mars could just see that her mouth was hung open slightly, hesitating as if to say something.

"Are you playing guitar in there?"

Gliding her fingers over the harp strings, practicing on the air once, Mars let out a flush of notes, playing the blissful music in quick, melodic succession. Her notes rang out, and she filled the seemingly swimming notes that rang out with a few more beneath, increasing the surrealist feel of her music. She continued to play, lightly, drawing in the ear of her listener as she took a few careful steps forward.

Mrs. Johnson was frozen, seemingly listening to the music in the same position she was earlier. She still held her mail in front of her, her head turned towards the kitchen, her lips hanging just open enough to suggest she wanted to say something, but she remained totally still.

Mars slowed her notes, walking down the dimly lit hallway, still playing loud and crisp notes, but letting shimmering, near-inaudible notes fill out the background and give the music depth.

* * *

Mars, who was hunched over moments earlier, stood fully upright. She was just at the cusp of exiting the hallway and rounding the corner into the living room, her shoulder pressed to the corner as she continued to play.

"Enter trance," Mars spoke, lowering the harp strings for barely a second before she plucked loudly, bringing up the music to surround Mrs. Johnson and backup her voice.

Mrs. Johnson did nothing. It was as if she hadn't heard a thing.

Stepping around the corner, out into the open space of the living room, Mars approached closely to Mrs. Johnson, continuing to play her harp in melodic fashion. Even though Mars knew her footsteps were audible when she was this close, she paid no mind approaching close to her.

"Can you hear me, Marissa?" asked Mars. "Speak the answer."

"Yes."

"Very good."

"I'm going to speak some affirmations to you, and I want you to answer them with simple 'yes' answers. Answer if you agree. Even if you don't agree, I want you to answer them. Even if you don't agree, Marissa, I want you to try to believe in them. I want you to believe in them for me. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Let us begin."

* * *

"You are a very good wife to your husband."

"Yes."

"You have honored him, even in his absence. You have done well by him, taking up additional responsibilities when he was gone. You have worked the long hours necessary to close the gap between your husband's responsibilities and your own, even at the price of your own exhaustion. In this, you know he will be pleased when he returns; that has been your hope and desire since he has left."

"Yes."

"You have helped your child, Adeline, learn and grow because she is in that much more need when her father is gone. She can be a handful at times, but anything for her is a labor of love."

"Yes."

"You love Adeline dearly. You want to make sure that she knows she is loved and that when the family struggles as a whole in the absence of her father. You want her to know that things are not her fault and that bad things happen, but it's okay. You want her to know that you miss your husband as much as she misses her father."

"Yes."

"You hope she doesn't worry, but above all you hope that she knows that it isn't bad to be afraid, and that it's completely natural."

"Yes."

Mars paused, swallowing inaudibly. She had been pacing around the chair Mrs. Johnson stood in, keeping time with her harp as she strummed the taught strings in perfect rhythm, keeping time with her hypnotic words. For a moment, Mars thought she had heard Mrs. Johnson's latest response quaver in tone. As she crossed directly in front of Mrs. Johnson, where she stared directly ahead at the wall behind Mars, staring through her, Mars held her breath for a moment. Something about the way Mrs. Johnson responded seemed to have struck a chord in Mars, just as it had in Mrs. Johnson, a seeming result of the connection between the two, something Mars felt was one way.

"Though you miss your husband, and dearly hope that he returns home, you hope that he completes the job. You know he has a very hard project ahead of him and that you wouldn't expect anything else but the best, which is why he is overworking himself. That is why the long nights at the office are taking place. You know that is why, even if he is returning home incredibly late at night, you feel as if he is not there."

"Yes."

"Good, Marissa. You are very faithful," said Mars. "That is why you understand that, though your husband came home very early this morning, he could not spend a very long time. He was incredibly grateful for that, though he came in so early, he was allowed to come home to shower for just a moment before he could return. That is why he could not stay, and that is why he had to go."

After a long silence, Mars paused in her tracks. The plucking of her harp strings fell a beat, and the next string she hit was the wrong note, hit with an uncomfortable twang. Mars took a breath and picked up with her melody once again, playing more.

"Marissa, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

Mars took a careful breath, gathering her thoughts.

"Your husband came home just to shower and left abruptly to return to work. Do you believe he was doing what was right?"

Mrs. Johnson gave a shuddering breath. Her eyes, though still transfixed on the wall ahead, blinked more than usual, her head twisting uncomfortably as she sat. Where her hands rested on her lap they fidgeted uncomfortably. Her feet shuffled against the carpet uncomfortably.

Mars' head craned around as Mrs. Johnson silently fussed, seeing that something was off. Her brow narrowed, slowing the notes on her harp so that they faded into near inaudibility.

* * *

Kneeling before Mrs. Johnson, Mars craned her body forward, looking up to Mrs. Johnson, locking eyes with the transfixed eyes of her hypnotized subject. Mars played the notes quietly, but kept them at an incredibly low level.

"Do you want to say something to your husband? Just before he left?" asked Mars, her voice at a whisper.

"I… I don't understand…"

"What don't you understand, dear?"

"I… You promised this wouldn't happen when we moved here…"

Mars didn't anything. Her eyes turned down softly, a pallor falling over her features as she hesitated, taking a deep breath. Though her fingers danced over her harp strings, trying to keep the notes she played as quiet as she could, hovering in the generous spaces between strings, she started to pick up what she was playing, so that the soft, uplifting melody could be heard. Mars thought long and hard, playing what sounded like a toy box song.

"Don't you remember…?" Mrs. Johnson breathed. "Don't you remember when we lived in Oreburg City? When we lived deep beneath the earth, where the sun only shined through portholes in the ceiling? Where we got the light and warmth of the sun through heat lamps that hung in every street? When we picnicked in a cafeteria when there were natural gas leaks in the mines, once or twice a month? When we felt like we were under house arrest during those leaks? Remember when I was pregnant and I couldn't be near you because of the amount of coal on your body?"

The harp strings raised to shrill, cheerful notes as Mars played, trying in desperation to play to suit Mrs. Johnson's words as they began to break apart.

"What did you say? You know what it was like. You remember exactly when I told all of this to you, right before our parents came and we needed to help them get into the city. How could have you forgotten? I can't live like this, I said… I couldn't do it… You made me promise when we had Adeline that we'd live somewhere free, somewhere quiet… Somewhere where you didn't work ten to twelve hours in a mine… Somewhere you could get from early and come home… Somewhere we felt free… I didn't ever think you'd spend the night at your work again…"

Mars froze. She had stopped playing.

"I guess you can't break a bad habit," said Mrs. Johnson.

Mrs. Johnson closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed, a quiet groan escaping her lips, a hand reaching up to grasp for her brow and rub the pain away. When she opened her eyes, she stared directly into Mars' eyes, looking incredibly confused. Her mouth opened for a second, then hesitated.

In seconds, Mrs. Johnson's eyes rolled back into her skull. Her mouth flopped open, and her body fell back into the hard wooden brace of the chair, a loud thunk emanating from it. The chair creaked as her body fell limp, her arms flailing back. She stayed still, slowly slumping over to the side.

Mars stood up abruptly, grasping for Mrs. Johnson's shoulders as she slid over holding her steady and upright. Once she had balanced her body and rested it against the chair, Mars froze, completely unsure of what to do. Her arms prepped and ready to spring into action, Mars' eyes raced around the situation, thinking long and hard. Finally, she set the harp down behind her, then squatted down to her side. Her fingers curled around her chin, feeling the aging, worn skin as she lifted her head just slightly. She brought her ear to Mrs. Johnson's lips, hearing something exude, then brought her head down just beneath her chin. She confirmed breathing, involuntarily sighing at the comforting thought, before bringing her head out from under hers, looking up at her. Gingerly, she slid a finger just under the bulge of where her right eye was, spreading the eyelids just enough to see the unconscious eye.

Dropping down to the floor, Mars sat, throwing her arms forward in defeat. Her head lowered between her knees and her hands held her head, a choke of air being the only sound that came from her.

* * *

The door opened at the front of the home, muffled by walls but reaching the bedroom. As the door swung on its hinges, squealing quietly, it soon slammed back into the doorway, locking shut.

Mars' head rose quickly, looking up from where she was, hunched over beside the bed in the master bedroom. Looking down to where she had been fooling with the drawers beside her, the folders hanging loosely on the metal rails of the filing cabinet interior, Mars took the folder she had open on the floor, closing it up and slipping it back into position. She thrust the drawer back in, turning the key and hearing the lock catch, putting the key atop the short nightstand above the drawers, flipping down the concealing handle. Taking the pages she had stolen from the folder, Mars looked up to the bed, seeing where she had laid Mrs. Johnson flat, giving one last passing look.

As Mrs. Johnson snoozed silently, a cable snaked from an earbud inserted into her ears on either side, leading down to a small black device. A switch on the thin end where the earbud cable was plugged in indicated the device was on.

"Mom? Are you home?"

Hearing the muffled voice just down the hallway, Mars reached up and pulled the earbuds from Mrs. Johnson's ears, looping the cable over her fingers once and grabbing the small black device. She clicked the switch off, silently racing around the front of the bed to the other side, where she dropped down to a squat behind it.

The door to the bedroom opened, swinging in silently. A young girl, no more than ten, poked her head in; it was Adeline. Seeing the peaceful, sleeping form of her mother, she quickly stepped back, a single eye peeking through the door crack as she slowly, silently shut it.

Hearing the click of the doorknob, Mars poked her head just above the bed, taking pause at the sight of the door. Her fingers nimbly coiled the earbud cable around the device several times, tossing it into the open black duffel bag. She took the papers she had stolen and stuffed them in as well. Pulling the zipper on the hoodie up a few notches, Mars grabbed the boots of her uniform that she had stuffed under the bed, quickly slipping her silent, socked feet in and zipping them. Finally, she zipped up the duffel bag, taking the black strap and slinging it over her shoulder.

The latch to the window opened with a click. Mars launched the window up, getting only a light shuffling sound from the tracks on either side of the window. She threw the duffel bag out, getting a soft impact on the grass, throwing her legs over the ledge and slipping through, moments before she let the window drop down and lock.


End file.
